


The Birds And

by misspamela



Category: Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World (2003)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-10
Updated: 2011-04-10
Packaged: 2017-10-17 20:21:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/180832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misspamela/pseuds/misspamela





	The Birds And

They were on Majorca, waiting for some gentleman of Stephen's aquaintance. A beekeeper, perhaps, or an _astronomo-physick_ ; Jack could never remember the details of Stephen's friends. They had taken some time to track the man down, and now he was eluding them once more.

The weather was uncommonly foul for Spain and this beekeeper was late, unlikely to arrive before morning. Jack and Stephen were soaked to the bone and shivering when they arrived in the next village, so they decided to take shelter at the Castillo del Rey inn, a charming establishment with a rather unfortunate dinner menu (Jack had better stew two weeks at sea) and several plump cats.

"No mice," Stephen said, stroking a ginger tabby behind the ears.

They retired to a large room in the back. The bed was clean with, indeed, no sign of mice or other vermin, and the bath was unusually large.

"A bath, Stephen!" Jack exclaimed, already pulling his greatcoat off. "Just the thing! I am so covered in earth and mud that I do not feel myself at all. Not at all!" He laid out his clothes, adjusting them with a critical eye. Killick would have his skin when he returned.

"Go ahead, my dear," Stephen murmured, looking out the window. "I shall keep watch on the road."

"Nonsense." Jack filled the tub with the ewer and, in a fit of mischief, stuck it out the window to catch the falling rain. "We shall fill the bath to the brim and pretend we are at sea. I've followed you and your beekeeper up and down the bloody Spanish coast. Indulge me, dearest."

Stephen looked over his glasses at Jack. " _Beekeeper._ Really, Jack." He tsked and fiddled at the tattered lace at his throat (which still bore the remainder of the evening's stew). "You have been most patient. I shan't deny you your pleasures, childish as they may be."

Between the rain and the proximity of the bath to the hearth, they were able to draw up the warmest, most decadent bath Jack had experienced since he'd last been home. Stephen folded himself into the bath after Jack, looking for all the world like a spindly bird perched at the edge of some foreign lake.

"We shall meet the _Surprise_ on the south side of the island," Jack explained, pushing a bobbing bit of soap toward Stephen. "The storm will have pushed her to shelter like _so_." He prodded the soap into the crook of Stephen's leg.

Stephen dislodged the soap and sent it spinning through the waves and eddies in the tub. "My friend --" here he paused and quirked a small, pained smile at Jack -- "my _beekeeper_ will be bringing me a letter to be returned to England at all haste."

"Ill grandmother, I suppose?" Jack asked blandly, soaping his chest.

"Illness of a kind," Stephen said, looking very grim indeed, pinched and turned in on himself.

Jack hated when Stephen got like this, inside-out and twisted with secrets. They played a dangerous game, the two of them, and one that often left Jack feeling like a stoat feeling his way through tunnels in the dark. The water seemed to grow suddenly cold and Jack shivered.

"You'll catch your death," Stephen huffed, hopping out of the bath and drying himself off. "Out with you; as your physician, I demand it."

"I've met Admirals who've demanded less," Jack said cheerfully, the sombre mood broken. "But they were not so concerned with my health, ha!"

"I should think not," Stephen muttered, climbing into the bed. "Bloodthirsty fools." He lay back against the pillow, hands clasped on his chest. He had a quiet air about him, his brow furrowed. Jack waited for him to speak as he dried himself , watching the thoughts work their way through Stephen's marvellous brain.

"I suppose I would be sorry," Stephen said, finally, "if you caught your death after I dragged you up and down the Spanish coast."

Jack climbed in bed next to him. "Think nothing of it dearest, truly." He leaned over, smoothed the line between Stephen's eyes with his hand, and doused the candle. "I'm sure you would heal me of it, by and by."


End file.
